The Kraken King

by Meljean Brook

  The molten heat of his mouth claimed her flesh. Zenobia curled forward with a strangled cry, her fingers digging into his hair. No teasing. No buildup. Just direct, like everything he did.

  As if a single taste deepened his hunger, a ravenous groan tore from his chest. Roughly his tongue slicked up her center and destroyed her ability to breathe, her every thought.

  “Ariq.”

  It was all she had left. A gasp. His name. And the pleasure ripping her apart as he licked a hot path to her clitoris. Sucking the aching bud into his mouth, he stroked it against his tongue.

  Her knee folded. His strong hands caught her, her body anchored between the support of his palms and the hunger of his mouth. Her every breath was a sob. Her hips jerked with each flick of his tongue and the throbbing tension wound tighter, like a pain that would only feel better if it hurt more. Then it was too much, she needed to get away, and the grip of his hands became iron and his devouring mouth opened wide, teeth grazing her clitoris as his stiffened tongue speared inside.

  For an instant she froze, hands fisted in his hair, ecstasy stretching to the edge of erotic anguish. Then his tongue thrust into her again, and she screamed as the orgasm broke through her in erratic waves, her hips rocking in an uncontrolled rhythm that sharpened unbearably when he rode with her, still feasting from her clenching sex.

  His tongue slicked over her clitoris and she came again, sobbing his name and collapsing forward. Hands sliding up to her waist, Ariq lowered her over him, her bare thighs straddling his hips, his trousers rough against her oversensitive skin. Her back arched as the pressure of his rigid length against her need-swollen flesh sent new ripples of pleasure through her core.

  His mouth captured hers, silencing her cry, and with the wetness of her arousal still glistening on his lips, the languid kiss seemed more carnal than his deep taste between her legs.

  Eventually Ariq lifted his head, need still burning in his gaze. “My wife,” he growled fiercely, as if daring her to deny it.

  She wouldn’t. Especially if he kept doing everything he’d just done.

  But he wasn’t finished. His hand slipped beneath her hair to clasp the back of her neck. “If I hadn’t vowed not to take you here, I’d have both your legs on my shoulders. Then I’d have made you stand as lookout while I slid deep into you from behind, and had you until your sheath squeezed my cock as hard as it did my tongue.”

  So blunt. With a breathless laugh, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hid her burning face in his warm neck. “I think I awakened a beast slumbering below.”

  “You already knew what I was.” Voice still rough, he held her closer. “Do you feel trapped?”

  No. She felt safe. Even though she’d known that part of him, too. The Kraken. Who fixated on his prey and never let go. Who would hold on, even if they were both dragged down.

  But although she was always afraid, she wasn’t afraid of that. And it was difficult to hope—yet she was now. This wasn’t ending yet. So even if he loved the woman he’d thought she’d been, maybe she had time to brand herself on him, too.

  Her heart full, she tightened her arms around him. “I haven’t looked for a ship since the second I felt your mouth.”

  “Look now.” He sounded amused—and not surprised.

  So arrogant. “I can’t even stand.”

  Slipping his hands beneath her bottom again, he rose just high enough to glance over the side.

  “Still safe,” he said.

  ***

  Still safe.

  Hours later, there were still no ships in sight. Zenobia glanced away from the twilight horizon to search the dark waters below. The moon had risen, shedding weak light across the waves.

  Diffused blue light.

  Blinking, she rubbed her sleeves over the lenses of her goggles. The lantern fish was still clipping along a hundred feet above the water’s surface, the electrostatic charger clicking as it unwound. Now and again, Zenobia fancied that she could see the sparks running up the wires to the jellied flesh. The blue in the water ahead looked like that—not the blue of the ocean or sky, but the blue of an electric spark or a gas flame, as if giving off its own light.

  She glanced straight down. More blue shimmered under the water. Not the diffuse glow ahead, but more like a squiggle of glowing blue ink. Definitely not the moonlight. And not an electric spark. The balloon was flying faster than the light was moving; she’d never heard of slow electricity.

  And there was another, bigger. She gripped the rail and leaned over, squinting into the dark until the shape beneath the surface resolved.

  An undulating bell. Long trailing tentacles.

  A glowing jellyfish.

  Grinning, she glanced at Ariq. He sat beside her, his back against the basket wall and his eyes closed. She couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or simply resting. That afternoon, she’d realized that he’d probably slept as little—or even less—than she had in the past few days, and had insisted on taking watch. They would be in the Red City by dawn; God knew how much time would pass before he could rest again.

  But she didn’t know if he was sleeping now. His chest rose on deep, even breaths, but every time she made a noise or moved quickly, she would turn to find his eyes open. Every time the clicking of the charger stopped, he rose to wind it again before she could make a move toward the crank handle. If he was sleeping, it was very lightly, and she probably should let him rest. He’d likely seen glowing jellyfish before.

  Biting her lip, she turned back to the sea. The horizon was still clear—and the glow ahead was brighter, so bright that the hand she held out was illuminated by the faint blue light.

  A giant jellyfish, maybe. And they were on course to fly right over it.

  Her heart raced as they neared, as she imagined the stinging tentacles whipping up out of the water like a kraken’s and dragging them down. That was absurd, of course—oh, but it definitely had to happen in the next adventure she wrote. Because the reality was not all dangerous. It was just heart-stoppingly beautiful.

  She must have gasped. In the next moment, Ariq stood beside her, the angular planes of his face washed in that soft blue light.

  “A bloom,” he said.

  “How many?”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  Neither could she. But it must have been so many. Hundreds of thousands. Maybe millions. A long swath of the ocean was aglow, the mass rippling underwater in a fluid dance of light. “It’s incredible.”

  Ariq didn’t answer. When she glanced up, he was looking south over the bloom, his eyebrows drawn. She followed his gaze.

  Lights on the edge of the horizon. Not jellyfish, but the familiar yellow glow of gas lanterns. As she watched, darker shapes resolved against the night sky.

  Ships and airships. Not Tatsukawa and Ghazan Bator. Their lantern fish flew faster than either the ironship or airship could travel, and these were coming from the wrong direction. Yet Ariq had stiffened as if he’d sighted their vessels, instead.

  She took his hand. “What is it?”

  “A Nipponese fleet,” he said flatly. “Fifteen ironships. Six airships. Headed west.”

  Her mind raced. Headed west. Of everything he’d just stated, that seemed to hold the most import. “Do you think they’re headed for the western coast? For Krakentown?”

  Jaw clenched, Ariq nodded.

  Oh, God. “How much time?”

  “I don’t know. They might intend to search for the marauders first.”

  “Then we have time.” She squeezed his fingers. “We have time to make it right when we reach the Red City. We can let everyone know what really happened.”

  “Yes,” he said. His voice was rough, his expression troubled. Not the calm she’d come to expect.

  Her stomach cramped. If Ariq was openly worried, then clearly everyone on the western coast should be terrified.

  “I don’t know anything about war, but if there’s anything you need from me, just ask.”

  He to
re his gaze from the horizon to search her face. His palm cupped her cheek. “Stay.”

  She would. Until everything was settled, one way or another.

  At her nod, he drew her against him. His dark gaze returned to the fleet.

  What was he seeing? A formation that told him more about the ships and their intentions? Or did he simply see the threat they posed to everything he’d fought for and loved?

  She slipped her arms around him. “Are you all right?”

  He slowly nodded. His hand stroked down her back.

  “My heart is iron,” he said.

  Part VI

  THE KRAKEN KING AND THE CRUMBLING WALLS

  In a jellyfish balloon

  Just north of the Red City, Nippon

  June 3

  Archimedes,

  In all of my previous letters I threatened you with gross mischaracterization if you followed me to Australia. Most likely you have disregarded my requests and are traveling here now.

  On the slim chance that you haven’t disregarded them, however, now I implore you to ignore what I’ve written before. The attack on our airship revealed a conspiracy that threatens every settlement on the western coast of Australia, and your wife’s skyrunner and her services as a mercenary might prove useful to the people I want to help.

  You might as well accompany her, my dear brother. I’m certain that we can find a way to make you useful, too.

  Your dutiful sister,

  Zenobia

  P.S. I apparently agreed to be the Kraken King’s wife during our abduction. I don’t yet know if our nuptials will stand—though he has married me, I have not yet married him—but I suppose a dutiful sister would apprise a brother of such news.

  XXI

  Airships and boats crowded the Red City’s harbor. Ariq slowed the lantern fish’s approach. The sun had just risen, offering enough light to identify the anchored vessels. If Admiral Tatsukawa had flown directly to the Red City after sending his messenger to Ghazan Bator’s ironship, he could have arrived before Ariq and Zenobia did.

  He lowered the spyglass. None of the airships was Tatsukawa’s. No doubt someone would report to either Ghazan Bator or Tatsukawa when Ariq returned to the embassy, but Ariq didn’t think they would be intercepted now.

  Zenobia joined him at the basket’s side, tucking her notebook into her belt. “It’s safe to fly in?”

  “Safe enough,” Ariq said, then glanced at her notebook. She’d been bent over a page since the sky had lightened enough for her to write by. “Do you need more time before we head in?”

  “No. It’s just a letter to Archimedes, asking him to come. It’s doubtful that I’ll have a moment to write after we arrive, and I want to post it as quickly as possible.”

  Asking him to come. After saying that she would leave with her brother if Ariq couldn’t persuade her to marry him.

  After she’d promised to stay.

  He clenched his jaw against the ache building in his chest. Only two weeks ago, he’d decided to give her up because he couldn’t fight two battles: one for her heart, and the other for his town. But the heavens had favored him and kept her near, allowing him more time with her as he searched for the marauders. Yet now the same struggle was upon him again. Here in the Red City, she would still be close, but his waking hours would likely be spent convincing Nipponese officials to hear him speak.

  Ariq had told Zenobia that he would have her so hard and so long that they would need three days to recover. But the Nipponese fleet was sailing toward his town. He would be lucky to have three hours. Now, when he most needed to win her.

  And she was already writing to her brother.

  Her cold hand slipped into his. “To come help.”

  He frowned. “Help?”

  Zenobia nodded, looking out over the sea, her hair a wild tumble down her back. “I know nothing of battles and fighting. But my brother and his wife do. And Yasmeen has an airship, so she might prove useful to you.” She glanced back at him, her brows raised. “Did you think that it was so I could leave? I said I would stay until this was settled.”

  His voice was rough as he said, “So you did.”

  “Because we agreed that it was more sensible to know each other better before deciding whether to stay married. It’s difficult to learn whether a man will be a good husband while he is off to war.”

  Her tone could not have been more practical, but amusement shone in her eyes and tugged at her mouth. Yesterday, Ariq had been certain that he couldn’t love her more. Would she prove him wrong every single day?

  He hoped so.

  Pulling her back against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her slender waist, giving her the warmth of his body. As much as he hated this uncertainty, she’d been right to insist on knowing him better before committing to a lifetime. Had Ariq been any other man, had their circumstances been different, he would have lived with Zenobia and her family before their marriage, so they could be certain of his character and his worth. This arrangement was as near to the custom of his people as he could hope for—and how could any man be displeased with such a sensible wife? He only feared she might use the additional time to push him away.

  “War is the best time to learn the character of a man,” he told her.

  “Will I learn nothing, then? You’re trying to thwart a war.”

  “Because the greatest victory is a battle won without shedding any blood.”

  And that would tell her even more about his character. She had already seen him spill blood when he’d killed the guards on the ironship. Ariq would destroy his enemies if necessary, but he preferred not to. And he didn’t want to see any bloodshed against Nippon and her empress.

  She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “I like to negotiate.”

  Telling him something about herself in return—but Ariq already knew this. From the night she’d first arrived in his town and persuaded him to escort her to the smugglers dens, to their second kiss which she’d decided was his turn. Every step she’d taken closer to him had been an exchange or a bargain of some sort.

  But he didn’t know why. “What do you like about it?”

  “Increasing whatever small advantage I have—or turning my disadvantage into equality. And getting my way. I like that very well.”

  He grinned against her hair. “Do you?”

  “Oh, yes.” But the amusement in her voice quickly faded. Her hand smoothed up the sleeve covering his forearm and stopped with her fingers curling lightly over his biceps. “You’ll have a lot of negotiating ahead.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have the advantage?”

  “No.” The same heaviness that had weighed on his heart when he’d seen the fleet sailing west returned to his chest. “I only have the truth.”

  And that was never as powerful a weapon as it should be. The truth had not pierced Zenobia’s defenses, and he was familiar with the strength of her walls. He didn’t know exactly what he would face in Nippon.

  “What of your reputation?”

  “It might work in my favor. But it could just as easily work against me.” No one would want to make an enemy of Ariq—so they might choose not to involve themselves and refuse to hear him. If they did, even truth would not help. Any attempt to march into Nippon and force them to listen would be more disastrous than silence.

  “You will have allies. Helene’s husband, for one. He was already indebted after you rescued us from the marauders’ attack and brought Helene to the Red City. Now his obligation will be all the greater because we were abducted from his home.”

  The French ambassador. Ariq didn’t know how much influence the man had, but he wouldn’t reject his assistance.

  Or Zenobia’s. Already she was trying to help him. He couldn’t love her more.

  Yet Ariq knew that he would. Watching her profile, he asked, “Do you wish to join me when I speak with him—or anyone else? To negotiate?”

  When she smiled, the tip of her nose tilted downward ve
ry slightly while her cheeks and eyebrows rose. “I don’t offer you any advantage. And wouldn’t I be a distraction?”

  No, he wanted to say. But she would be, at a time when he couldn’t afford any distractions or to give anyone leverage. If they saw how Ariq felt for her, he would be exposing a weakness in his armor.

  When he nodded, she said, “Then I will give them the truth of our story if they ask me for it. I’d hardly be of much help, anyway. I can’t speak Nipponese—and even if they speak French, God knows how many times I might inadvertently insult someone. Helene warned me how easy it is to offend.”

  Not so easy. But she spoke sense. Either she would be lost in every conversation, or the dialogue would be delayed by continual translations.

  She seemed to tense a little, and paused before adding, “Every night, you can come to me and tell me how it went.”

  No. Because he was fighting two battles, and although he would have to spend his days wielding words to avert one war, the best way to win Zenobia was not to tell her how he felt, but to show her. So he would not be spending his nights talking.

  Or the next few minutes.

  But before his hands slid to her hips she was spinning to face him—she must have decided that it was her turn. She rose onto her toes. Still not tall enough to reach his mouth, she anchored her arms around his neck and leapt.

  Prepared to lean forward, Ariq staggered a little, readjusting his balance and his grip. She laughed against his mouth, then claimed his lips, and he had the thought that she’d bludgeoned him again before her heated taste burned his brains to ash and hardened his body to steel. Her hands fisted in his hair. Her tongue curled against his, and what began as an attack of weight and teeth and laughter became a controlled assault, slow and deep. Her legs tightened around his waist, and she began a long, leisurely ride up and down the aching length of his erection.